Hawthorn’s Privateers
Strangers in a poor tavern. They catch one another's eye. Too many storms in the regional too many ships never left port. And then the captain. With a moustache that precedes him, he sets up table and pulls a crew. By end of night, he has his sailors, and his remaining crew appears. First comes his first mate, Julian. Then comes the hunter, Thunderpants. Then comes the avoral scout, Isobella. Then come the sea witch, Lacrimosa. Then comes the bard, Kenneth. An interesting crew, some officer material, some not. I need to find some simple encounters to teach the system, and then jog the next plot. Day 0 - The flight out of Cerge You quickly find your place under the sharp bark of Captain Ulset Hawthorn. The timber deck of the Antonia creaks as sailors scurry to and fro. Rigging moans as sailors lash lines down, making ready to fly, to sail the soars. The captain bellows at an ursa guiding a crate of provisions down below deck, into the hold. Cool wind brings the scent of briny clouds in to mix with the tarred wood of the ship and the lingering storm rain. Dew from the night previous coats every flat surface. The captain strokes his moustache as he surveys all hands busying themselves on deck and below. A small sparrowceet lands on the steering wheel and takes off, only to be devoured by a scarlet dive hawk midair, which flaps hard to gain height with its meal struggling in its talons. High above the crows nest, a circle of brightly coloured birds circle, watching the commotion below. The captain hums to himself, smiling. He shouts to cast off, thumbing his pristine white moustache. The last lines are thrown off the Cerge docks, and the Antonia dips as her balloons find level. A breeze snaps her flag, a long ribbon marked by three stripes of deep umber alternating with sharp black, the colours of Jacknow. Wind fills her two sharp, rough brown triangular sails, and the felucca full of fresh privateers pulls out of Cirge, embarking on its unknown voyage. Day 1 Present and accounted for: Isabeau Jeremiah, the Avoral Rogue Kenneth, the Human Bard Rumble Thunderpants, the Gnome Ranger Lacrymora, the Elven Witch A sharp wind pulls the Antonia to the North. Crew struggle to retie ropes and cables. The Captain laughs. The morning is bright and fresh. A new day. After setting course, the Captain begins to go over his ship, checking each station in turn. After seeing everyone in place, the captain gives a shout for all hands to listen. He lays out a general course norse, catching the White Rock Straights line north, and then use the lift to lift into HighSky, where he'll take us east to the closest settlement, Combers. Shore leave will be restricted to those who impress upon the Captain their need. With some amicable nodding, the crew sets to work keeping the Antonia on course. Wind blows your clothes about you as you stand on deck. Verge is already far behind you, though the massive capital spire of Cine still looms at your backside, it's rocky, craggy cliff face acting as the wall of the wind channel. The morning passes uneventfully. Crew find their comfort. You each spend the time manning your station and learning the crew. There much talk about the prospect of new settlements. Every other sailor has their eyes constantly scanning the rock wall off the port side. A few hours after lunch, a cry comes up from below deck. While cleaning, a deckhand dislodged a nest of bilge spiders, which swarmed him. Seeing his mate disappear under a blanket of hand sized spider, the sailor ran, leaving his screaming friend behind. The deck hands curse and say they won't go back down until the spiders have been cleared out and the nest destroyed. Grumbling with stern reproach, the Captain snaps his fingers and calls his officers to deck. "Which of you wants to go squash an itty bitty spider?" He asks as he fluffs his singular and most excellent moustache. A group of those present go down to the bilges to fight. The area is cramped, fifteen feet across at broadest, but as it narrows to the bow, space becomes cramped. DAY 2 - The Sinking Blue Morning brings excitement. By the time the crew emerges on deck, the Captain is shouting over the gunnels. The crewman on rat’s nest point shouts back. "Bloody great Blue hove in sight, Cap't! She looks dead in the sky above a glittering' bank res stuck up above the floor!" A ship and an tiny island have been spotted below in LowSky. The island is a short mound sticking above the cloudfloor, with beaches full of smooth, multi-coloured glass pebbles instead of sand. It is a tiny blip not marked on any of the Captain's maps. A short tuft of forest sits at its centre. While the island is of interest, the real concern is the ship: a small sloop flying bright blue sails. Not just any ship though, a Blue ship; one of the royal guard. A murmur goes through the crew. Some have had dealings with the Blues, some have not, but everyone has heard stories. And everyone is wary, if not downright aggressive. "Crew to stations! We're taking her down if she rears her head!" The captain stomps back to the wheel and gets the ship moving. He gestures at the lashed cannons. "Get those four pounders ready and prepped!" A crewman close to the Captain tries to reason with him. "Hawthorn, you madman, those are Blues! We'll be hunted down and skinned alive! We can't fire on them!" The sailor moves to wrench the wheel from the Captain, who calmly pulls out a pistol from the small of his back and shoots the sailor in the head. "Throw this traitorous welp to see what's 'neath the white," the Captain barks at two of the closest sailors. Any opposition and the Captain attacks as ruthlessly. "Coming up close, Cap't three cables down sky!" The sounds of work, the clatter of boots against the wood hull of the Antonia. The Antonia pulls within range and Captain Hawthorn gives a great bellow. "Take her! Rip her from the skies! First man to rip Blue cloth becomes a named officer after me!" The cannons roar, making an awful din. The Antonia shakes and pitches on her side from the force of the shot. The Blue ship returns the Antonia's volley with shuddering force. Chain shot rips apart the deck. The thunder road as a line of heavy shot rains against the side of ship. Three of the heavy shots wreck up the control deck. Captain Ulset Hawthorn is smashed like a bowl of eggs. Thunderpants, on the control deck, collpases to the ground, shaking as the gore covers them. A sickening crack echoes from the front of the ship as one of the heavy cannons finds its mark, snapping the front mast like tinder. The mast keels over and crashes to the deck. A scream goes up as the main truck (the standing and attaching platform) crushes one of the sailors (He lives, but both of his legs are crushed and will have to be amputated. His name is Stanley, age 17). The Blue sloop is not doing well, despite the weak attack from the Antonia, of the 6 crew and 2 blues, one blue got her leg taken off by a stray cannon round, and shrapnel took out three of the crew. The last blue is trying to save what crewmen he can, to little effect. Royal Blue Aban: He has thick auburn hair and amber eyes, and a thin nose. He wears banded mail and wields a longsword +1 and heavy steel shield. Aban was searching for his missing daughter. Unaware of their captain's demise, the remainder of the Antonia's crew begin boarding the blue sloop. They overtake the sailors, losing 1 to 1. The remainder are cut down by Aban, who is cutting his way through the crew with relative ease, as they board, though he is taking one shot from each. He is grim in his final moments. If talked with, than he laughs that the crew will all die, that his sloop is Captain Dagvan the Wraith's forward envoy. He bled out. Day 4 - Flight North - Squibbing Livitus's Prophecy "He went out with mad eyes, false eyes, that could see all. He taught me to read me my page, and know, though lost and blind." Livitus stretched out his arms and looked up to the ceiling, his voice spread thin and whispery, echoing back in deep baritone, a voice very much not his own. "There will be an answer to the question three hundred years old. I watched and took the key, unlocking the path She has shown me. I walked along the starry road; I heard them whisper. Their whispers, on the night's wind. Their whispers, on the Sow's tongue. Their whispers, an old, stone-piercing cloud. Their whispers, in falling rain caught in rock basins. I listened close and walked alone where neither yellow star or blue sun could spy. The first marked will not know, will forgo the most valuable treasure for a forlorn pittance. The second marked will be the first to fall, the craftsman, the hunter bearing false witness. The third marked will deny the words, but the rainmaker will nourish with water red and freely called. The fourth marked will carry the seed. Oh, the seed of wisdom and age, of pain and pleasure. The fifth marked will expose the way, accomplishing by breath what the craftsman could never finish. The sixth marked will walk alone in company, and so will fall. Then will come the last, the lamb with no face. The answer will be paid and so will speak the Page. Thus will the last answer be given, though still the same as the first." Livitus coughed, his arms falling slack to his side he grinned at the visitor's before him. They hadn't caught all the words, nor could they understand their ramifications. For all he could guess, they would be swept away as so many bad omens, but none of that mattered. He had said the words, and his part revolved, his task was almost done. "Not to worry, luvs," Livitus croaked in his own comfortable, gravely voice. "We'll be seeing each other all very soon enough, I expect." He gave a short bow with a flourish of his squashy hat and disappeared through the small crowd, pausing only to grin at the party's comely witch. He wished he could spend more time in her company, but there was work to be done and far stretches of sky to cross before he was free of his task. Day ~9 Isabeau Jeremiah, the Avoral Rogue Kenneth, the Human Bard Rumble Thunderpants, the Gnome Ranger Lacrymora, the Elven Witch Julian Alse/Foley Jack, the Halfing Sorcerer Gurta the dwarven monk, the Karen compass Elric the half Orc necro sorc Dash Windrider, the dread pirate Through the dead temple’s belly they found the guardian of old, the installed roost, the hungry axe. Then, they fell, and yet rose to live once more. Category:Stories